


the best of you (belongs to me)

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Bokuto Koutarou, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Akaashi Keiji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: Bokuto Keiji has the perfect honeymoon planned.The best laid plans of mice and men, however, often go awry.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 393





	the best of you (belongs to me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darlingstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingstardust/gifts).



Bokuto Keiji still can’t quite believe it.

They did it. They really got married. After all these years, all the pining, the watching from afar, the shy hand holding, the awkward first dates, the friendship that blossomed into the love of his life, the proposal under the stars. All of it had culminated in their wedding.

Kuroo cried, because of course he did. He was a blubbering mess throughout his whole best man speech. Tsukishima and Kenma cried, too, but they did a better job hiding it. Keiji cried only once, when Koutarou was giving his vows.

And Koutarou...was absolutely resplendent. He shone, from the moment Keiji turned his head and saw him walking down the aisle until they went to bed, practically collapsing still in their suits and too exhausted to do anything but cling to each other. He radiated happiness, and it was the most beautiful thing Keiji has ever seen.

In the early morning hours, with sunlight streaming in through the window, he shines still. His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction, and his mouth hangs slightly open in his sleep, and Keiji couldn’t possibly love him more. 

He can’t help but stick his nose into the scent glands on Koutarou’s neck, inhaling deeply and settling in his partner’s scent. His  _ husband’s _ scent. It calms him, his body responding automatically to the smell of his alpha and relaxing. 

The alarm that rings shrilly through the room has the opposite effect.

Keiji shuts it off and lays back against the bed with a groan. Now he has the unfortunate task of having to wake his beautiful, resplendent husband.

“Koutarou, my love,” Keiji says, rolling on his side and facing Koutarou. “You have to wake up, dear.”

Predictably, this doesn’t receive a response.

Neither do the next three attempts at rousing Koutarou. Keiji has to resort to kissing along Koutarou’s jaw, soft, gentle things that at least receive a quiet hum in response from Koutarou. Kisses along his jaw become kisses on his cheek, which he leans into, and then against his lips, and finally, Koutarou’s awake and kissing back, albeit in a messy sort of manner.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Keiji murmurs, bumping Koutarou’s nose with his own.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Koutarou answers, and then his eyes flutter open. “Hey. You really are Bokuto-san now.”

“I really am,” Keiji affirms. He kisses Koutarou again. “And both of us Bokuto-sans have to get up. We have to be at the airport in two hours.”

“We could just stay here,” Koutarou suggests, his arms sliding around Keiji’s waist as he noses against Keiji’s neck.

Keiji shivers. The action was unintended on Koutarou’s part, half-asleep as he is, but his proximity to Keiji’s scent glands still sends shockwaves through his body. He wants to lay here in bed all day, wants to let Koutarou  _ claim _ him, wants his body used savagely and ferociously as they make love to each other over and over again.

But they have to be at the airport in two hours.

“Up,” Keiji says again, sighing as he does. It’s a cruel necessity to shove his cold hands under Koutarou’s prone form, but he does it anyway.

Koutarou howls, sitting up immediately and pouting in Keiji’s direction. 

“You coulda just asked,” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I did, love,” Keiji reminds him. He sits up and presses his forehead against Koutarou’s. “About seven times.”

Koutarou frowns. “Well I was only awake for three of them,” he grumbles.

Keiji smiles in spite of himself and presses a kiss to Koutarou’s downturned lips. “You want to go to Spain, right?”

“Yes,” Koutarou admits. Keiji can see how much it pains him.

“Then we have to get out of bed.”

Koutarou huffs. “One more kiss?” he requests.

Keiji knows this game. One more kiss will turn into two, and two more kisses will turn into a twenty minute makeout session with Keiji crawling into Koutarou’s lap and both of them getting all breathless and riled up until Keiji has to reluctantly pull away to get them back on schedule.

“One more kiss,” Keiji grants him.

It’s why he set the alarm extra early.

\---

Bokuto Keiji does not speak Spanish.

Keiji may have spoken English, once, but it’s rusty from disuse, and the gentleman behind the counter at the hotel clearly doesn’t understand his attempt at communication. He sighs and tries not to get too frustrated, or to let Koutarou see how upset he is.

“We have a reservation,” Keiji says, in halting, poorly enunciated English. “The name is Bokuto. B-o-k-u-t-o.”

The man behind the counter smiles apologetically. “I’m so sorry, I don’t understand.”

Keiji sighs. “I can write it,” he says, miming the action of writing, and the man nods and hands him a post-it and a pen. Keiji scrawls out the letters in a tidy script, the only thing that remains spotless in his memory, and hands it to the man.

“Ah,” he says, and he turns to his computer and searches for their reservation.

“It’s alright,” Koutarou murmurs. It’s too public a place for Keiji to shove his face into Koutarou’s neck the way he wants, to breathe in his alpha’s reassuring scent, but Koutarou presses a kiss to his forehead and it serves to soothe him. 

“Sorry,” says the man again. He points at the computer and shakes his head. “No Bokuto.”

Keiji wants to scream. He checked and double checked and triple checked this reservation and he knows, he  _ knows _ , there’s a room for them. He gestures for the pen. “Try Akaashi,” he says, although why he would have given his old name he doesn’t know. He writes the name and pushes the post-it back toward the man.

The clerk looks doubtful, but he types in the name anyway. “No Akaashi,” he says.

“I don’t understand,” Keiji says, in Japanese now. “I made these reservations months ago, we’re on our honeymoon, we’re supposed to have a room here.”

Koutarou steps in, his presence intimidating even when he isn’t trying to be. He exudes calming pheromones now, and Keiji nearly cries at the relief it brings him. “My name is Bokuto Koutarou,” he says, and his English isn’t as bad as Keiji thought it might be but it’s certainly not any better than Keiji’s. “We have a room here.”

“No room,” the clerk insists.

Keiji pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just put a new room on the card,” he says in Japanese to Koutarou. “We hadn’t paid for the old room yet anyway.”

“Room, please,” Koutarou says, and the clerk narrows his eyes.

“You would like a room?” he asks.

“Please,” Keiji reiterates.

He frowns and produces a thick wad of paperwork. “You’ll have to fill this out.”

Koutarou groans quietly, and Keiji snatches the clipboard and a pen and stalks away to sit down.

Forty-five minutes later, they finally conquer the paperwork and turn it in. The clerk looks skeptical, but he puts it into the computer. It’s another thirty minutes before they finally receive a room key.

“On the bright side,” Koutarou says as the elevator door closes. “At least they actually had a room for us.”

\---

Bokuto Keiji is starting to think this honeymoon can’t get any worse.

The time on the clock now reads nine thirty and they’re over an hour past their dinner reservations. Keiji is exhausted, frustrated, and extremely hungry. Koutarou seems like none of this has fazed him at all and exuding a calming scent that has Keiji feeling slightly better about fucking everything up.

“I’m really sorry,” he says for the umpteenth time, and Koutarou crosses the room to hold him in his arms.

“Don’t worry about it,” Koutarou says. Keiji feels the way his voice rumbles in his chest, and it’s soothing just as much as his scent is. “We could order pizza for all I care. I’m just happy we’re together.”

Keiji feels tears forming in his eyes. “But we do that all the time at home. We’re abroad, this is supposed to be special.”

“It  _ is _ special,” Koutarou answers. “We can just relax tonight and we’ll go do all the fun stuff you had planned tomorrow, okay?”

Keiji sighs and buries his face in Koutarou’s chest. “Yeah, alright,” he sniffs.

They stand there for a moment, and Koutarou leans down to press a kiss just below Keiji’s ear. Keiji shudders and tips his head back.

And then he feels something slick dripping down between his legs.

Koutarou lifts his head, smelling it immediately. “Keiji?” he questions, concern in his eyes. “I thought you weren’t due for a few weeks yet?”

“This can’t be happening,” Keiji moans. He pulls away from Koutarou to go into the bathroom to double check and, sure enough, discovers his heat has begun. He sits on the toilet and begins to cry in earnest, all of the pent up emotions from the day getting to him.

Koutarou knocks on the door. “Keiji?”

“I’m so sorry,” he cries, and Koutarou opens the door.

“Keiji,” Koutarou says, and Keiji feels his eyes on him. “It’s alright, baby, it’s okay.” Koutarou kneels on the floor in front of him and wraps his arms around Keiji’s neck.

“I’m ruining our whole honeymoon,” Keiji sobs. He rubs his face into the scent glands on Koutarou’s neck, noting somewhere in the mess of his mind that Koutarou’s scent has changed to match the heat scent Keiji is giving off.

“It’s not ruined at all, Keiji, I promise,” Koutarou says. “Can you look at me?”

Keiji sniffs and pulls back to look at Koutarou. It’s not fair that he’s still so gorgeous after the hell they’ve been through today, but he is, and the gentle smile on his face makes Keiji want to cry even more. 

“Let’s get everything taken care of before it gets any worse,” Koutarou suggests. He wipes the tears out from under Keiji’s eyes. “What do you need?”

Keiji takes a deep breath and tries to clear his mind. “Pillows and blankets,” he says. “We don’t have the pre-scented ones from home so anything you can scent will help.”

“Got it,” Koutarou says. “What else?”

“Food,” Keiji answers. “Looks like you’ll get your wish of pizza after all.”

“I’ll order some after I call down for the blankets and pillows,” Koutarou says. “What about painkillers?”

Keiji shakes his head. “I’ll be fine as long as…” He bites his lip and meets Koutarou’s eyes. “As long as you’re here.”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Koutarou says. He kisses Keiji softly, and Keiji clings to him, already starting to feel desperation building in his blood. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Koutarou scoops Keiji up in his arms and carries him back to bed. Keiji spoons a pillow (and tries not to hump it) while Koutarou makes the calls in his stilted English down to the front desk.

The pizza is proving difficult to obtain. Keiji slips his hand into his pants and strokes himself slowly, trying to fight off the need to cry out for his alpha. Koutarou is fighting with the concierge, his English becoming worse as his frustration increases, and the surge in his emotions is causing his scent to become stronger and stronger.

“We! Would! Pizza!” Koutarou says.

“Koutarou,” Keiji gasps, and even though it’s quiet it catches his attention. His head whips around toward Keiji. Keiji feels like he’s looking at Koutarou through clouded eyes and uses his free hand to reach out for him.

Koutarou slams down the phone and is at Keiji’s side immediately. He replaces the hand on Keiji’s cock with his own, and Keiji shudders as he comes only a few strokes after Koutarou touches him.

“Keiji,” Koutarou murmurs.

“Please,  _ please _ , fuck me,” Keiji begs. “I need you, Koutarou,  _ please _ \--”

“It’s alright, baby, I’ve got you,” Koutarou says. He slides Keiji’s pants off and slips two fingers inside of him. He moans quietly at the wet he finds. “Fuck, Keiji.”

“Please,” Keiji says. It feels like all he can manage to get out right now.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Koutarou says. A third finger joins the first two, and Koutarou fucks him gently, opening him up. Keiji fucks back onto his hand and strokes himself to another orgasm. 

“Harder, Koutarou,” Keiji cries.

Koutarou slides his fingers out. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Koutarou!” Keiji snaps. 

Koutarou slips his own pants off. His cock is throbbing, and, somewhere through the haze of his mind, Keiji is impressed that he’s managed to keep from touching himself up until now. 

“On your back, baby,” Koutarou says, but despite his instructions he flips Keiji himself. Keiji spreads his legs wide and brings his knees up toward his chest.

Koutarou does stroke himself a few times before he lines himself up, using Keiji’s abundant wet to get himself ready. Keiji bites down hard on his lip to keep himself from yelling again, trying his hardest to be patient.

“Alright, Keiji, I’ve got you,” Koutarou says. His cock slides into Keiji easily; he enters fully with no resistance, and Keiji’s eyes screw shut, finally feeling full the way he needs to.

“Fuck me, Koutarou,” Keiji says.

Koutarou knows better than to go slowly. He pulls himself almost fully out and slams back in, and Keiji cries out in pleasure, coming a third time just from the penetration.

“That’s it, baby, just relax,” Koutarou breathes. He fucks hard into Keiji, who does as he’s told and lays back, his fingers tangling in the sheets as he’s pounded into the bed. His voice feels hoarse, and he wonders idly if he’s been screaming more than he realized. Koutarou reaches down and touches his skin, his hands leaving fire burning in their wake as they run across Keiji’s stomach and chest.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Koutarou says. “So pretty when you come on my cock.”

Keiji begins to lose track of time. He comes several more times while Koutarou fucks him harder still, and he finally starts to feel okay again. Koutarou leans down and kisses him, and Keiji uses his hands to fist in Koutarou’s hair and pull him close. Koutarou murmurs Keiji’s name over and over between kisses, which begin to trail down toward Keiji’s scent glands. Keiji tips his neck back.

“Bite me, Kou,” he says, and Koutarou pauses his movement.

“Keiji,” he whispers.

Keiji opens his eyes. “I’m your husband, and you’re mine, and I want the world to see it. I want everyone to know whose I am, Koutarou. I’m yours.”

Koutarou looks like he’s going to cry. “I’m yours, Keiji,” he says.

Keiji tilts back again. “Show me.”

Koutarou begins to fuck him again, and Keiji feels his cock swell inside him and knows he’s close. Koutarou mouths at his scent glands, licking them and kissing them, and Keiji feels his last orgasm for now building inside of him.

“Koutarou,” Keiji says, his chest heaving. “I’m yours, Kou, I’m all yours. I love you.”

“I love you,” Koutarou says, and he sinks his teeth into Keiji’s neck.

If Keiji thought he was hot before, it’s nothing compared to the lava that spreads through his veins now. He comes, his entire body convulsing with it, and Koutarou follows soon after, forming a knot inside of him. Keiji is burning, certain his body is melting, becoming one with Koutarou. He’s never felt like this and never will again, and he’s desperate to memorize the feeling while he’s got it.

“Keiji,” Koutarou whispers, running his tongue over the mark he’d left.

Slowly, slowly, Keiji begins to cool. Koutarou somehow manages to adjust them so Keiji’s on top of him, curled against his chest. The sweat between them becomes sticky, but Koutarou doesn’t let go even though he must be uncomfortable. Keiji struggles to keep his eyes open now that he’s temporarily satisfied. 

Koutarou goes soft inside him after a while, and he grunts quietly as he pulls himself out of Keiji.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Keiji murmurs.

Koutarou bumps their noses together and smiles brightly. “Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Keiji is close to sleep, but his stomach rumbles loudly, and he lifts his head as Koutarou falls into laughter.

“You sounded like me!” he exclaims, kissing Keiji’s cheek.

Keiji smiles and kisses Koutarou. “Use an app to find us some pizza,” he instructs. He pries himself away from Koutarou. “I’m gonna wash up a bit.”

“I love you,” Koutarou says, tugging him down for another kiss.

Keiji loves the way Koutarou smiles against his lips. “I love you, too. Now get me some food.”

“Yes, sir,” Koutarou says.

Keiji’s legs are stiff and sore as he walks into the bathroom, courtesy of the good thorough fucking Koutarou had treated him to. He takes a washcloth and is in the process of wiping himself off when he catches sight of his new mark in the mirror. It’s an angry red, for now, though he knows by tomorrow it will be healed to a softer pink. He runs his fingers over it. Koutarou’s claimed him now: legally, physically, mentally. The last of his old life is gone, and in its place is the rest of his days spent with Koutarou by his side.

“On its way,” Koutarou says, stepping into the bathroom. He steps behind Keiji and wraps his arms around him, breathing hot against his neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Keiji says. He turns in Koutarou’s arms and leans up to kiss him. “Everything’s perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing omegaverse so be gentle with me  
> thanks as always to my team  
> title from hozier's nfwmb  
> links to socials in profile


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